


Excavating

by Nevcolleil



Series: Buried Things [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Jack's through with shoving things into boxes that don’t want a lid put on them. Nobody goes out on a limb with their hands full of shit like that.(Of course, this is easier said than done. Until Jack is caught, naked and alone and aroused, by the one person in the world he can't seem to get over wanting to be naked and alone and aroused with.)





	Excavating

Mac’s naked skin, framed by the wreck of Jack’s sex-disheveled bed, is a hell of a thing to wake up to...

Or so Jack imagines.

It’s certainly a hell of a thing to wake up without, after the steamy dreams that wake Jack in the middle of the night, nearly panting with the gut-churning _want_ that’s followed him into the waking world. 

Jack feels like a horny kid, or worse... a dirty old man - skin clammy and cock stiff, kicking back his covers in the wan moonlight coming through his bedroom window.

No.

No, not stiff.

 _Hard_. It’s not just a simple, impersonal morning erection Jack wakes up with on nights like these. A problem he can rectify by jerking off to just any thought. Ever since the... _incident_ of a few weeks back-

There’s only one thing that’ll do more than frustrate Jack, when he tugs off his boxers and lays back out on the bed, takes his cock in hand. Or - worse - stop the whole thing in its tracks, leaving him feeling slightly less morally compromised, but still entirely unsatisfied.

And that’s the thought of Mac - his partner, his _best friend_. Half Jack’s age and (probably) entirely straight... (Probably) wholly uninterested in anything more than the relationship that he and Jack already have - which is a damned bit more than Jack, or _anyone_ , could ever deserve.

Jack wraps a practiced hand around himself and gives himself a measured stroke, trying hard to draw up a mental image to accompany it that comes from some mindless place inside himself. Rather than that tattered box inside his mind where Jack stuffs things that _shouldn’t_ be drawn out as often as he’s been taking things out and turning them around lately. 

Things like how closely Mac had stood next to him just the day before - a silly, stupid thing for a grown man to notice, much less care about. 

Except that there hadn’t been any good reason for it. It hadn’t just happened... Mac had stepped in that close to Jack. Had _chosen_ to stand so near. And he’d been looking at Jack as he’d done it - the way Mac’s sometimes looked at bombs before. The ones he’s said he can’t help but admire - for the shear perplexity they present, if nothing else; their unique make up making them unusually unpredictable - even while he’s half-certain this next one’s about to blow up right in his face.

Then there’s the way Mac’s been looking at Jack lately when Jack’s _not_ looking directly back. Just out of the corner of Jack’s eye, he’s caught Mac staring at him. Eyes seemingly aimed in... interesting directions. 

When Jack turns his head to look, Mac looks away. Or he slips away. The way Jack imagined he had a few weeks ago, after Jack imagined Mac had been standing there... in Jack’s doorway. Watching as Jack-

After a few more half-hearted strokes, Jack stops. Rubs at his face with his free hand and asks himself, for maybe the thousandth time, what he thinks he’s doing.

(Besides the _not_ getting himself off, obviously.)

“Shit,” he curses into the near dark.

It’s one thing for Jack to fantasize about Mac while he’s getting off. To replay daydreams and memories - _illicit_ memories, even; things Jack’s seen and heard that he was never meant to - in his head while he rubs out a couple or orgasms... Or opens himself up, imagining that it’s him Mac’s got backed up against the wall of a van - or spread out on a luxurious hotel bed.

It’s another that Jack’s started to _project_ his desires onto his partner.

To misinterpret... whatever’s been going on in Mac’s head lately. Whatever’s made him so quiet and reflective. So simultaneously needy for Jack’s company and evasive whenever Jack asks him what’s up. 

Disgusted with himself, Jack crawls out of bed. He needs a glass of water. Maybe a cold shower. Some perspective, definitely - but he won’t find that in the bathroom or the fridge.

He doesn’t bother to pull on any clothes - he’s alone in the apartment.

He’s been alone in the apartment for _too long_ , perhaps, Jack tells himself as he heads for his kitchen. He hasn’t dared sleep over at Mac’s since the incident, and he hasn’t had anyone “sleep” over here either.

Jack had thought that maybe if he stopped trying so hard... Stopped trying to score dates with women he could actually see himself trying to make something work with - stopped trying to move past this helpless fixation on his partner that just seems to grow stronger with every passing year... Maybe he could adjust himself to the weirdness he feels when he’s with someone else romantically, sexually, now that he’s figured out _why_ he can’t seem to get the memory of those times he’s accidentally (or not so accidentally) perved on Mac and Nikki out of his head.

One night stands won’t stop Mac from worrying about Jack’s lovelife the way he has been more or less since Sarah’s wedding - hypercurious about when’s Jack gonna start dating again, who’s he dating... why didn’t it work out? (Which is why Jack never mentioned his occasional... _dalliances_ to Mac.) But Jack at least had an outlet, when he felt free to go out and try to pick up a companion for the evening, for redirecting this restlessness he feels sometimes, straight down to the _bone_. 

This longing to turn Jack’s daydreams about Mac into actual possibilities. 

A few weeks ago, Jack got a more than clear enough answer as to how well _that's_ worked out as a means for diminishing his obsession with Mac.

Right in the middle of a pretty damned good romp with Christy (Christine? Crystal? - a cute blonde Jack met at the pub just a few blocks from his place) Jack actually frickin’ imagined he saw Mac out of the corner of his eye. Felt Mac’s presence as surely as if he was really in the room.

Once in his kitchen, Jack pours himself a glass of cold water, but instead of drinking it, he holds it to his forehead and closes his eyes. Wishes the chill of the water in the glass could cool the useless heat and need inside of him as well as it cools his skin.

Jack’s been shoving things into the box inside his head for years and years. Since _before Mac was even born_ , he lets himself be brutally honest. But apparently Jack’s feelings for Mac are just one of those things that won’t be boxed. Won’t be buried or suppressed. Not for any real amount of time.

Jack opens his eyes and glares down at his own dick, debating pouring his water straight down his body. 

It certainly doesn’t help his perdicament that, at the same time that Jack’s been trying to put down his impossible longing for Mac, a _certain_ part of his body hasn’t missed an opportunity to rise up - at the briefest thought of Jack’s best friend - and remind him of one of the ways in which Jack longs for his prettyboy partner.

Thankfully, Jack doesn’t actually spill his water over himself... because just then there’s a knock at his door. 

Not that, dry, Jack is any more presentable at... Fuck. _Two o’clock in the morning_. Standing naked, and still more than a little hard, in the middle of his apartment.

Has Jack’s phone died in the night again? There must be an emergency.

Jack sets down his glass and rounds his kitchen island, planning to head back into his bedroom to pull on some clothes.

“Coming!” he shouts at- probably Mac, of all ironies, as he does.

Which is unfortunate.

Because to _Mac_ , it sounds like Jack yells ‘Come in’. And when Mac tries Jack’s door handle, it swings open like Jack’s just unlocked it.

(He hasn’t. Jack’s hounded the landlord about it, but his door still only latches properly about three fourths of the time.)

Mac walks into Jack’s apartment right as Jack walks fully into the living room.

Both of them stop and stare at one another.

Jack is so caught off-guard, he doesn’t even think to cover himself.

“Uh-”

Mac recovers first. “You- Oh god, I thought you said,” he starts to say.

“N-no, I said I was coming to the-”

And then Mac’s face goes utterly, terribly blank - and very still. He asks, “Do you... Do you have somebody-”

For all of the questions that occur to Jack in the moment, the answer to Mac’s is easy.

“Wha- No. No, I’m alone.”

“Then why-” Mac begins to ask. His face is flushed bright pink. Jack can see it even in the minimal light that illuminates Mac’s face for him - the little pantry light in Jack’s kitchen that he still has on.

And then Mac lets his eyes travel further down than Jack’s face... and he seems to think that he’s figured out something. Because he gets _that_ expression on his face next. The one he always wears when a solution has suddenly surprised him, and his eyes widen.

Then he’s walking towards Jack before Jack has yet to figure out what he’s supposed to do, or say, caught standing - naked and aroused - alone in his dark apartment by the one person in the world Jack can’t seem to get over wanting to be naked and aroused with.

As soon as he’s standing in front of Jack... Mac drops to his knees. And if Jack _had_ been prepared to say something, he still wouldn’t have had the breath to say it.

His whole body feels like it seizes in lust, shock, and anticipation - but it doesn’t move. Jack’s staring down it, wide-eyed, at Mac, so he sees the lie his body somehow manages to maintain while inside he feels like he’s shaking apart into a thousand desperate, terrified pieces.

(If this is another dream... A- A hallucination or-)

“Tell me I’m right,” Mac looks up at him and says, hands rubbing anxiously at his own thighs, like his palms are sweating. (Looks up at Jack _from his knees_. From the floor at Jack’s feet- sweet Mary, Mother in Heaven...) “Tell me you want me.”

He says it in this quiet, hopeful little voice. Like _he’s_ the one that feels like he’s dreaming...

Jack could no more hold back from touching him than he can stop the hand that reaches out to do it from shaking.

He brushes Mac’s hair back from his face... settles his hand on the back of Mac’s head. Not to imply nothing... Just to feel that Mac’s actually there with him, and Mac’s head is about all Jack can reach standing up while Mac kneels.

Mac’s breath hitches. Jack can hear it in the absolute silence that’s broken only by his own pounding heartbeat.

“Jesus, Mac,” Jack almost whispers, his shaken voice comes out so soft. “I’ve never wanted anyone so bad in all my life, that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Mac just- The look that passes over his face must also be on Jack’s. Awe. A fucking _shattering_ relief. 

“Can I?”

“Please,” Jack says before Mac’s barely finished asking. “Oh, Angus, please-”

Mac takes him in hand and then immediately takes Jack into his mouth.

It’s tentative - the way Mac slides Jack in, like he’s re-learning what it feels like to have a man’s cock in his mouth; how to adjust his lips around Jack’s girth. It takes him a moment to figure out what to do with his tongue and his teeth. 

Mac bobs his head slowly, swallowing Jack down by half inches, one hand at the base of Jack’s cock, holding it in position.

“God, Mac, that feels amazing...” Jack can’t help rambling. “It feels so, so good...”

Mac shudders like he thinks so, too... breath coming more quickly and unsteady.

Jack is so captivated by- By all of it. By Mac’s lips stretched thin around him, soft and warm and tight - by the silky glide of Mac’s tongue, the pressure of it. By Mac’s pretty face, lashes spread out against those high cheekbones - cheeks hollowed out as Mac sucks Jack to distraction. 

When he sees Mac reach for the button of his jeans, Jack doesn’t think.

“N-no,” he stutters, hands clenching where he’s been idly running his fingers through Mac’s hair. He doesn’t miss the way Mac moans as it happens, but he’s focused on something else. “Don’t... don’t,” he says in a voice so thin and winded, Jack himself barely recognizes it. “Let- let me. After... Let me do you after...”

Mac shudders again, harder. The hand that isn’t wrapped around Jack balls into a fist at his waist, but he- Fuck, he obeys, and stops trying to free his own cock. 

If he’s enjoying this half as much as Jack is... and the way his breath picks up is encouraging... he has to be _so_ hard by now. So desperate for even his own touch-

“Fuck, Angus... fuck, you’re so hot,” Jack basically pants. And, remembering Mac’s reaction the last time, he slides his fingers deeper into Mac’s hair... and tightens his hands into gentle fists.

Mac moans so loudly, his mouth goes temporarily slack. He sinks down onto Jack until his lips are brushing his own fist.

Then he recovers and sucks Jack like he can’t _not_.

Jack garbles out such a mixed cross because a curse, a moan, and a prayer, _he’s_ not even sure which one he was going for.

“Oh- Oh, yeah... Oh, yeah, Mac,” just falls from his lips. “Oh, that’s- That’s per- that’s _perfect_... Oh-”

Mac sets a rhythm. A beautiful, toe-curling rhythm... Jack has to lock his knees so they don’t weaken and fail him. 

In fact, the pleasure’s almost too much to bear and hold steady. Jack’s hands roam. He brushes Mac’s face with reverent fingertips... traces the wet ring of Mac’s lips around himself with forefinger and thumb.

Testing, Jack rocks his hips forward the slightest bit - not even thrusting. Just- Just a shift of Jack’s weight. Just to see...

Mac begins making soft noises at the back of his throat, to go with the slick sounds of his mouth working on Jack. 

He opens his eyes and looks up at Jack, lashes fluttering at the sounds that punch out of Jack at the sight.

Then he releases Jack’s cock from his fist... and lifts both hands up to Jack’s hips.

With his eyes still open, still staring up at Jack, so pretty... Mac tugs at Jack’s hips as if to encourage him to move more.

There’s no way Jack can resist.

Slowly at first - oh so slowly and gently - Jack begins to thrust along Mac’s tongue, between his lips, into his mouth...

He frames Mac’s handsome face with his hands, fingers settling firmly along Mac’s jaw, thumbs moving to the corners of Mac’s mouth, just to ensure that he and Mac are both working from the right angles, so he doesn’t hurt Mac in his fervor.

Mac must like it. He must like it a lot. He moans again, this time flattening his tongue in a way that maximizes the affect the vibrations of the sound have on Jack’s cock - and when Jack jerks with the intensity of the sensation, accidentally pushing a bit deeper down Mac’s throat than he’s been so far-

Mac squeezes his eyes shut. Jack feels his jaw relax even further beneath Jack’s fingertips, and Mac flat out _hums_.

Jack only knows he’s going to come about a minute before his orgasm completely overtakes him.

“I’m gonna- Mac, I'm gonna-”

Mac’s eyes fly back open... but he does nothing to pull away.

He hums _louder_.

“ _Yes_...” Jack gasps out. “Y-yes, l-look... look at me, Angus. Le- let me see-”

Mac is looking Jack right in the eyes as Jack comes in Mac’s mouth, down his throat.

Mac doesn’t pull off until Jack is fully finished twitching against his tongue, sharp, short sounds of completion fading into nothing.

And Jack’s knees really want to buckle now... but there’s no way. No way Jack’s not reciprocating the hell out of what Mac’s just done for him.

He reaches shakily for Mac’s hands with both of his.

“Get up here,” he says, with a voice so pleasure-rough it could just as well have been him who’s just given the epic blowjob, from the sound of it.

Mac rises off of his knees, the smile on his face curling at the ends into one of his self-pleased little smirks. Smug in the best way, because it means that Mac is fully enjoying something that he’s done well for once - not trying to temper whatever accomplishment he may be feeling with double-thinking how he might have done better, or how someone else might have done just as well.

Jack doesn’t know that Mac ever does that during sex, the way he does it with his ideas out in the field, but the thought hurts Jack’s heart regardless. The smugness in Mac’s smile makes Jack want to worship his body all the more.

He starts by making love to Mac’s mouth. Catching Mac up in his arms as soon as Mac’s fully on his feet, and kissing him breathless, with long sweeps of his tongue alongside Mac’s own - nevermind the taste of himself he finds there.

“God, Jack...” Mac breathes against Jack’s lips, eyes half-lidded, when Jack finally pulls back.

“Come to bed with me,” Jack says. And in case that doesn’t adequately telegraph his intentions, he brushes his knuckles against the bulge at the front of Mac’s jeans.

Mac curses under his breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes...”

He actually grabs Jack by his wrist and leads the way. Jack laughs. 

Then he just about chokes on his laughter when they get to Jack’s bedroom. Mac’s pretty blue eyes look like an entirely different shade of blue with his pupils blown wide like they are. There’s a look of determination on his face - a fierceness not so unlike the kind Jack’s seen on Mac’s face under fire. Something almost ominous, if you’re one of the poor schmucks on the wrong side of the fire.

Lucky for Jack, being on Mac’s side is basically his job description. 

Mac wastes no time stripping out of his shoes and socks, and when he starts unbuttoning his shirt - and Jack jumps in to help - Mac leaves it to him. He concentrates his efforts on kissing every inch of Jack he can get to without pulling away from Jack’s hands far enough to get in the way of Jack’s efforts to strip him.

Jack’s neck, his collarbone... Dude _bites one of Jack’s nipples_. He’s been having sex for a hell of a long time to not have known that that’s a thing that gets to him.

“Holy shit, yeah... Do that,” Jack gasps, fumbling to push Mac’s shirt off of him now that it’s completely unbuttoned.

Mac _licks_ him next. Then bites him harder.

“ _Fuck_...” Jack moans.

“This- This is supposed to be... your turn,” Jack manages to spit out while Mac adds a light suction to his assault of Jack’s newly discovered hot spot.

Mac straightens up and smirks, with that fierce look still on his face.

“What? Riling you up can’t be a part of my turn?” Mac asks, cocky as you please.

Oh. This is going to be fun...

It may actually kill Jack.

But it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun.

“Whatever you want, sweet thing,” Jack says, unable to bite back his grin. “But I did promise you some reciprocal oral action... Don’t forget that.”

Maybe ‘ominous’ isn’t the right word for Mac’s expression, under the circumstances.

‘ _Predatory_.’

Yeah. Yeah, that fits.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Mac says, slipping one hand around the back of Jack’s neck to pull him close into another kiss.

He unbuttons and unzips while he’s got Jack lost in his mouth, Jack hears him.

That’s as far as Jack’s willing to let him get on his own. Jack drops down to his knees at Mac’s feet, relishing Mac’s sharp intake of breath as he does.

He nips at the dark golden happy trail that dips down from Mac’s navel to under the waistband of his jeans and boxers (Mac’s not the only one who can use playful biting to his advantage) and is rewarded for it when he gets to see the muscles in Mac’s taut abdomen ripple at the sensation.

“God, Jack...,” Mac says again, even more breathless than he’d been earlier.

Jack just chases the continuing twitches of Mac’s muscles across his belly with kisses, then starts to ease Mac’s jeans and boxers down off of his hips (over his cock, straining at Jack as it’s revealed - so flushed and wet at its tip, so perfect.)

“Jack... Jesus, Jack...” Mac sounds strangled, high-pitched and _that_ close to whimpering when Jack presses a firm kiss to the very head of Mac’s cock before continuing to strip off his pants. One flat-tongued lick in the same place takes Mac’s voice down to an actual whimper - “ _Jack... Jack-_ ”

“Lift up your feet, sweetheart,” Jack says when he’s ready to pull the last of Mac’s clothes completely off of him.

Mac does, and - that done - Jack enjoys the sensation of being on his knees for Mac a little longer, lets Mac enjoy it. He pulls out every old trick he’s ever used during a blowjob (Jack hasn’t slept with another man in a _long_ time... but he’s dreamed about doing this to Mac often enough, has enough experience from back in the day beneath his belt, to manage.) He alternates kisses and licks up and down Mac’s shaft... strokes him before sucking him down - only to let him go and give Mac’s balls some similar attention, and then begin the whole cycle over again.

Mac goes crazy for it - just as Jack had hoped. But he gets talkative, too - which is more than Jack could have imagined.

“Oh, fuck, yes... Yes, that’s- Oh, Jack, that’s- That’s fantastic. Please-”

When Mac decides that Jack’s switching his attention from Mac’s cock to his balls too quickly, Mac lets him know.

“No, more...” he quietly demands, obviously too lost in enjoying what Jack is doing to be anything but demanding. He even drops a hand into Jack’s hair - tries to fumble Jack back to what he’d previously been doing. “More. Go back...”

Jack is living for it.

Mac’s enthusiasm only gives him more reason to want to get Mac into a different position, however. 

He pulls off of Mac’s cock with a pop and says, “Lie on the bed.”

Jack’s giddy with happiness. With sex. With _Mac_. He all but whites out once he’s got Mac in his bed, on his back... legs spread so that Jack can kneel again, between them, this time on top of the mattress.

Jack’s not gonna fucking _cry_ about it or anything. (But he comes damned close.)

Then he goes to work.

He starts with kisses to Mac’s kneecaps - underneath his knees - lifting and arranging and rearranging Mac’s legs as needed to kiss as much of his skin as possible.

“Damn, Jack, I thought you were going to suck my cock,” Mac says (and Jack swears that that word alone, passing Mac’s lips, gives him his second full erection of the night at record speed.) “Not my... everything.”

Just for that, Jack takes it back a notch and grabs one of Mac’s feet. He massages the instep with both hands, as Mac releases a startled-sounding moan, then he leans forward and bites at Mac’s inner thigh.

“I’ll get there,” he promises, grinning up at Mac. “Eventually.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mac gasps, tossing his head back on Jack’s pillow - whether from the thought of Jack’s promise, or the way Jack licks up the side of Mac’s cock to appease him momentarily, Jack can’t say.

And Jack does get there... After he’s kissed and licked and nipped at Mac in places Mac acts like it’s a revelation to even have acknowledged. He’s listened to Mac curse, and praise him, and _beg_ basically, and finally _order_ him to hurry. _Hurry_ , Jack.

He’s listened to Mac moan and groan and gasp like his lungs won’t work.

Then he sucks at Mac’s balls until Mac’s thighs are quivering, trying to close around him, even as Mac’s hips arch of the bed, desperately seeking any kind of release.

Mac’s cock is leaking so steadily, there’s a pool of pre-come gathered in Mac’s navel.

Then, _then_ , Jack pulls no punches with the way he deepthroats Mac and sucks him with everything he’s got.

Mac screams. There’s no use in being modest about it in Jack’s own thoughts - he makes Angus MacGyver scream. And come with a full body shiver, watching Jack watching him through his lashes the whole time.

Jack swallows everything Mac gives him, and licks up what he missed when Mac’s completely finished.

Then he crawls up Mac’s body and collapses half on top of him.

“I’ve gotta-” he starts to say, before remembering himself. “Can I-”

“Don’t ask...” Mac is still half gasping. He stretches to smack a sloppy kiss on top of Jack’s lips, obviously too fucked out for precision. “You don’t have to ask...”

Jack kisses him back, slots himself more firmly on top of Mac’s body, and rubs against the sweat-slick skin of Mac’s belly, his hip, wherever Jack can get their two bodies to connect and create friction, honestly - dropping kisses on Mac’s mouth, along his jaw, down his neck.

When Jack comes again, mouth parted and pressed against Mac’s, there’s barely anything left in him to release between them - but whatever he’s got, he lets go of with a shout, dropping beside Mac when he’s done, basically boneless and clinging to consciousness by a thread.

They lay like that until Jack loses it.

When he wakes up it’s still dark outside. His bed’s empty, save for him.

That gives Jack a moment of true, bone-deep terror.

And then he hears water running - lifts his head and notices the light coming from the en suite.

The relief he feels is so complete, it crushes Jack back to the bed more than he actually lies back on it.

Mac crawls back into bed with him - facing Jack - smiling the same smile he had after blowing Jack in Jack’s living room. A little sleepier. A lot sated.

Jack smiles back at him from his pillow, equally sleepy and as satisfied as he can remember ever having been before.

There’s something surreal about having put that specific look on Mac’s face. But it _isn’t_ surreal, is the amazing thing. It’s real. 

This is really happening.

Isn’t it?

Jack’s debating asking a potentially dangerous question, but Mac beats him to it.

“So... I’m assuming you’re okay with me staying the- Well, for what’s left of the night.”

“Baby, ‘okay’s’ not even the word,” Jack ignores the way his heart creeps into his throat and just says it. “Mi bed es su bed for as long as you want it.”

For a moment, he’s afraid that Mac isn’t as willing or interested in meeting him out on that limb as, overnight, Jack’s come to hope he may be. He looks like he’s trying to swallow back something a little scary himself. And if he’s afraid of telling Jack that this was a one-night kind of thing-

“I don’t know if you want to promise that,” Mac says with a stiff imitation of his earlier smile, and an obvious effort to sound light-hearted - when Jack knows what Mac sounds like when he’s just teasing, and this isn’t it. “I might never leave.”

Jack scoots in closer to him and says, “Well, then, I take it back.”

He leans over and kisses Mac on the lips, wraps the arm not under his pillow around Mac, and adds before Mac can get the wrong idea: “If you never leavin’s on the table, I’ve got a condition if you wanna sleep over.”

He must do an okay job of broadcasting what he means, because Mac stares at him for a second... and then he just seems to melt. Jack hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been before, until suddenly that tension vanishes, and Mac just looks sleepy and sated again; his smile loses that stiff edge.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m kind of in love with you...” Jack tells him. Through with shoving things into boxes that don’t want a lid put on them. Nobody goes out on a limb with their hands full of shit like that. And if he and Mac have come this far - dug up this much truth...

Jack figures they might as well dig up the rest. 

“So you gotta tell me,” Jack says, “if that’s gonna be an issue. Now, I ain’t expecting you to feel the same way. If you’re just here for the fun of it... I’m a fun guy. I got no problem with that. But when you say things like you’re never gonna leave, you-”

“I mean I never want to leave, Jack,” Mac looks Jack in the eyes and clarifies. “I mean I’m ‘kind of’ in love with you too.”

Jack feels his own smile grow. “Well, how about that.” 

(Of course they don’t tell each other _every_ truth, everything, right at that very moment.

Jack doesn’t tell Mac how he’d convinced himself that he couldn’t possibly be Mac’s type - or how _intimately_ he’s aware of just what Mac’s “type” is, thanks to his handful of accidental - and not so accidental - forays into voyeurism.

Mac doesn’t tell Jack how he’d only realized that he could be Jack’s type thanks to his own similar experience.

Not yet.

They go to sleep. They wake up and make love again. They go on with their lives.

Mac doesn’t always stay in Jack’s bed. He takes Jack home to his bed equally often. And it doesn’t take them long to start leaving the ‘kind of’ off whenever they tell each other that they love one another.

One day, Jack will tell Mac - in vague terms - about the time he had brought a woman home and imagined Mac being right there in the room with them.

Mac will let him finish speaking, hesitate only momentarily, and then casually say, “I thought maybe you might have seen me.”

Jack will not _quite_ choke on his beer and say, “Wait, _what_?”

Mac’s confession will start off strong... become self-conscious... and then abruptly end when Jack begins laughing almost hysterically.

“Oh... Oh, my god. Oh, thank you. That makes me feel a little less pervy for having watched you and Nikki,” Jack will confess himself.

“So you’re not ma- _Wait, what?_ ” Mac will ask, setting Jack off again.

They’ll have a long talk about _both_ their experiences with accidental and non-accidental voyeurism.)

(And the next day Jack will bring home a video camera and a tripod. Because of course he will.)

**Author's Note:**

> I've had several people request a fic where Jack witnesses MacGyver with a man. I LOVE that idea! I don't have anything in progress for it yet, so I'm marking this series complete for now. But when/if I get another piece written, I will open up this series and post it too.
> 
> Thank you, everyone who's commented on this series so far for the nice words and encouragement :) I hope this last part didn't disappoint!


End file.
